


Bliss (of another kind)

by dakiniten



Series: FemDom!Dean [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Collars, F/M, Genderswap, Light BDSM, Pre-Slash, Riding Crops, is it slash if one of them is temporarily female?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-23
Updated: 2010-04-23
Packaged: 2018-02-27 06:38:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2682935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dakiniten/pseuds/dakiniten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The time when Dean was Sam's Mistress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bliss (of another kind)

**Author's Note:**

> General references to BDSM themes, genderswap, incestuous sexual tension. Mostly just a fun little drabble, not a whole lot of substance. Beta-ed by my personal Jesus byaghro, title from the song "Bliss" by Tori Amos. I don't own anything, no money being made, I'm just playing in the sandbox.

“Explain again why we have to go to a BDSM club for this,” Sam asked the closed bathroom door. Dean had been in there, far too quiet, for thirty minutes. Sam didn’t know what was in the Sinister Sister Boutique bag, but Dean had taken it in with him and Sam was becoming concerned. “Dude, please tell me you’re not _exploring_ in there.”

Dean was taking the whole _being turned into a girl_ thing with remarkably good humor. Sam really didn’t want to think about what kind of mischief Dean could get up to if he put his mind to it, armed as he was now with an amazing set of breasts to go with his characteristic sense of adventure.

“First of all, I’m not exploring. I don’t need to – I’m familiar with the female form. _You’re_ the one who needs a refresher course, not me.” Dean’s pleasant alto filtered into the room, echoing in the tiny bathroom but muffled by the door. “Secondly, the woman we need to interview is at the club, and she specifically invited me to come out tonight. And to bring my _pet_ out to play. That’s you, Sammy. So out we go. You about ready?” Sam rolled his eyes.

“I’ve _been_ ready. You’re the one taking three forevers in the bathroom. Which is stupid, by the way, it isn’t like you have to fix your hair or put on makeup or any--” The rest of the sentence died on Sam’s lips when the bathroom door swung open to reveal girl-Dean, one arm braced against the doorframe. She – he, whatever – was wearing eyeliner and lipstick and...suddenly the meaning of the Sinister Sister bag hit Sam like a truck.

Dean had managed to cinch himself into a green bustier, a black pleated skirt that showed off shapely legs in black sheer stockings, and knee-high black boots with a wicked-looking heel. Dean crossed the room and leaned over to dig something out of his bag. Sam nearly had a heart attack as he caught a glimpse of garter and lace. Finding whatever he was looking for, Dean straightened and came back to Sam’s side of the room...and promptly draped himself across his little brother’s lap. Sam couldn’t even sputter. He was focusing all of his attention on willing away his immediate, insistent, and unforgivably inappropriate erection. Dean certainly wasn’t helping, wriggling like he was as he reached around to brush the hair away from Sam’s nape. Then Sam felt a cool, stiff strap wrapping around his neck, and Dean’s warm fingers fiddling with it at his throat. Only his implicit trust in his brother kept him from dumping Dean into the floor.

“There. That should do it.” Dean slithered out of Sam’s lap to stand in front of him, sweeping him with a head-to-toe once-over. Then he reached towards Sam’s neck again, and Sam felt a tug pulling him forward by the throat. He stood up to keep from falling off the bed. Dean grinned. “Oh, I definitely like that.”

“Did you just put a _collar_ on me?” Sam’s hands flew to his neck, where he felt the leather strap, the buckle, and a tell-tale metal loop. Dean smacked his hands away.

“Stop messing with it. And you really are going to have to work on only speaking when spoken to.” Dean waved a serious-looking riding crop in front of his face, and Sam was _sure_ he hadn’t had it a few moments before. “Don’t make me use this, Sammy.”

“When the hell did you start channeling Violet Blue?”

“The porn star? I’m flattered, really. Maybe we can explore that comparison later. For now, though, the folks at the club need to believe I own your ass, so get with the program.” Dean winked and swatted him playfully with the crop, slipping past Sam to grab the keys from the bedside table.

“Not the porn star, jerk, the domi--” Sam managed to halt that thought. Better not to tell on himself. Dean gave him enough hell without knowing the extent of his extracurricular research. “Nevermind. Let’s go. The sooner we get this over with, the better.” He shook his head and prayed for strength as he followed Dean out the door.

“That’s two for speaking out of turn, and two more for your negative attitude. Keep it up, Sammy – I get the feeling I’m going to enjoy the _hell_ out of this.” Dean’s grin was particularly unsettling, flashed at Sam with such intent and barely-restrained glee. Sam kept his retort to himself as he climbed into the passenger seat. It was going to be a long, long night.


End file.
